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Sweet Myrtle . . . Untended

Sweet Myrtle . . . Untended your Paw." "Really?" he asked, and I saw I had won. I hoped he never asked his father about it. I crossed my fingers and got the pop. So as we sat there drinking our pop and eating a Jumbo pie, we talked about agreed with a nod of his head. Sam placed the empties upside down in a pop case, came back to me, stuck his small then they will pay your folks." The cash money will only be paid once, the favor of kindness (commodation) will be repaid over and over, generation after my folks will. If they can't pay you, this and that to which Tag agreed or dis- generation. I have heard many an oldtimer remark, "Sure, I will do anything for him I can, his aunt was so good to my grandmother." work-roughened hand out to be clasped in mine and with the soberness of a judge said, "We'uns will pay you'uns." After the boys had gone, I sat there musing on those words: "We'uns will pay you'uns." I had not heard that phrase for some years now. In those few words is hidden the mystery of our mountain way of life; the very essence It also works the other way around; a grudge is repaid the same way for some slight, hurt, or grievance, thus causing the family feuds. All elections are gained or lost based on this principle. All votes are cast either for spite or to repay a favor-not to the candidate himself but will hear, I his family. After many generations, you would not vote for him after the way his grandfather treated my husband's cousin, not on your life I wouldn't." Or "I could not vote against him. His of our culture; the base on which our philosophy is founded. It is not a prom- ise lightly given, for it's more binding than any contract drawn up by a lawyer or a treaty between two great nations. Even death cannot break that promise given by a mountaineer. Because it does not mean just, "I will pay you"; it means, mother was so good to my sister." Foolish? Not on your life. This is the that held the mountains together. Sadly, it is now only found in remote places. strength of a vanishing race, the strength hearts. "If for some reason I cannot pay, then But the memory still lingers m our To allow tender new snoots of Indian Summer bloom. Neglected, full of last year's skeleton, dead branches standing too full Hack back, chop out, thin down. Accomplish the new harvest Of a short lasting birth of raging purple hue. As trees cast their formal attire to the ground to warm the earth, I think of hearth, home, fullness, closeness, skin touching skin. Leaf to leaves . . . Strange you choose nakedness now. Whisper thin trees. Your voices will die this winter As wind uses your branches for the harp of melody in the coldness. All will proceed in the quiet thundering of winter snow. You will awaken to cull out sweet myrtle and Wait for the earth bloom of soul. Among the drying and snapping, stringing up of summer's crop, -Deborah Hale Spears http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Appalachian Review University of North Carolina Press

Sweet Myrtle . . . Untended

Spears, Deborah Hale.
Appalachian Review , Volume 17 (4) – Jan 8, 1989
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Publisher
University of North Carolina Press
Copyright
Copyright © Berea College
ISSN
1940-5081
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Abstract

your Paw." "Really?" he asked, and I saw I had won. I hoped he never asked his father about it. I crossed my fingers and got the pop. So as we sat there drinking our pop and eating a Jumbo pie, we talked about agreed with a nod of his head. Sam placed the empties upside down in a pop case, came back to me, stuck his small then they will pay your folks." The cash money will only be paid once, the favor of kindness (commodation) will be repaid over and over, generation after my folks will. If they can't pay you, this and that to which Tag agreed or dis- generation. I have heard many an oldtimer remark, "Sure, I will do anything for him I can, his aunt was so good to my grandmother." work-roughened hand out to be clasped in mine and with the soberness of a judge said, "We'uns will pay you'uns." After the boys had gone, I sat there musing on those words: "We'uns will pay you'uns." I had not heard that phrase for some years now. In those few words is hidden the mystery of our mountain way of life; the very essence It also works the other way around; a grudge is repaid the same way for some slight, hurt, or grievance, thus causing the family feuds. All elections are gained or lost based on this principle. All votes are cast either for spite or to repay a favor-not to the candidate himself but will hear, I his family. After many generations, you would not vote for him after the way his grandfather treated my husband's cousin, not on your life I wouldn't." Or "I could not vote against him. His of our culture; the base on which our philosophy is founded. It is not a prom- ise lightly given, for it's more binding than any contract drawn up by a lawyer or a treaty between two great nations. Even death cannot break that promise given by a mountaineer. Because it does not mean just, "I will pay you"; it means, mother was so good to my sister." Foolish? Not on your life. This is the that held the mountains together. Sadly, it is now only found in remote places. strength of a vanishing race, the strength hearts. "If for some reason I cannot pay, then But the memory still lingers m our To allow tender new snoots of Indian Summer bloom. Neglected, full of last year's skeleton, dead branches standing too full Hack back, chop out, thin down. Accomplish the new harvest Of a short lasting birth of raging purple hue. As trees cast their formal attire to the ground to warm the earth, I think of hearth, home, fullness, closeness, skin touching skin. Leaf to leaves . . . Strange you choose nakedness now. Whisper thin trees. Your voices will die this winter As wind uses your branches for the harp of melody in the coldness. All will proceed in the quiet thundering of winter snow. You will awaken to cull out sweet myrtle and Wait for the earth bloom of soul. Among the drying and snapping, stringing up of summer's crop, -Deborah Hale Spears

Journal

Appalachian Review – University of North Carolina Press

Published: Jan 8, 1989

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